Beyond the Multiplex

A Grown-up Moviegoer's Bill of Rights! Plus: The shifting puzzle pieces of "The Nines."

By Andrew O'Hehir

Read more: Andrew O'Hehir, Movies, Movie Reviews, Arts & Entertainment, Reviews, Beyond the Multiplex

Photo: Newmarket Films

Ryan Reynolds in "The Nines."

Aug. 30, 2007 | Finally, we've reached a calm spot just before the storm hits. But brace yourselves, film buffs. I count 11 significant non-mainstream releases coming the week after Labor Day -- including the amazing documentary "In the Shadow of the Moon" and John Turturro's delirious musical "Romance & Cigarettes," two of the best movies I've seen all year -- and at least six more the week after that. So there'll be plenty to see, too much maybe. But will you go?

Last month I recklessly asked for responses to one of this column's enduring and indeed repetitious themes: Whither the moviegoing experience? In both Hollywood and the indie industry, producers and distributors seem obsessed with the specter of younger viewers downloading movies off the Internet (a real threat, or on its way to becoming one) and watching movies on their phones and iPods (not so much). As many of you testified eloquently, the movie biz should worry a little more about the quality of what it's actually selling, instead of inventing imaginary villains.

Based on the outpouring of testimonials that flowed into the letters column and my in box, it's amazing that anybody ever goes to the movies. Actually, 2007 has been a decent year, commercially speaking, for independent film. (Let's reserve judgment on aesthetic quality for the time being.) I had invited readers who rarely or never go out to the movies to explain why. Some of you were bilious and some were merely sad; some were Hemingway-terse and others unleashed "Confederacy of Dunces"-length diatribes. But it all pretty much boiled down to this: A) the movies suck; B) the theaters suck; c) audiences are rude; and C) it's too expensive.

As one reader put it, "The theaters are dirty, smelly, sticky-floored and filled with idiots who talk during the film. Most movies are crap and not worth the price." He/she went on, "Our couch is much more comfortable, the food is a lot better, our living room doesn't stink of popcorn grease and dirty feet, we can stop for bathroom breaks and if the cat interrupts the movie we can just toss her in the basement."

That reader fell on one end of the continuum, among those who have bid a not-so-fond and pretty much permanent sayonara to moviegoing. "I'll stay at home and skip the vaunted communal experience in favor of a big-enough image which will soon be in HD as well," wrote another. One reader in New Zealand reports that she recently had a 120-inch Day-Nite screen installed, so her living room provides at least as good a viewing experience as many theaters, and better than some. It was worth it to escape "the general unpleasantness of humanity in the herd," she says. "Maybe it's an introvert thing. If you're an extrovert, maybe the enjoyment of being with a bunch of people is a sufficient counterbalance to the hassle. I wouldn't know."

If those cocoon people simply aren't coming back, the majority of responders were more wistful. "I've always loved the experience of sitting in a theater surrounded by others, immersing oneself in the visceral thrill, and taking part in the modern version of the Greek theater-temples," one writes. But at close to $100 for the night out -- when you include baby sitting, parking and concession food -- she hardly ever does it.

Assuming, for the purposes of argument, that some movies are actually worth seeing at that price -- or would be, if doing so were actually fun and relaxing -- some central themes come into focus. You want consistent picture and sound quality. You want comfortable seating. You want little or no pre-show advertising, and absolutely no condescending lectures about movie piracy. "If I wanted to be patronizingly lectured at and be forced to watch ads, I'd watch Fox News," writes one reader. You don't mind a few trailers, as long as they don't go on forever and don't seem totally incongruous with the movie you're there to see. You want decent, reasonably priced food options, and possibly an adult beverage or three. You want the movie to start on time. You want the place to be acceptably clean and tidy, although nobody is expecting your mom's bathroom circa 1973.

You want the people around you to shut up during the movie (I think we can agree that talking, hooting and inappropriately laughing during previews is excepted). You want them to turn off their damn phones and you especially want anybody who somehow thinks it's OK to intermittently consult their BlackBerry or their Treo or whatever liquid-crystal, visible-for-miles, brilliant-oceanic-blue screen they've got, right in the middle of a dark room of strangers trying to preserve a collective trance, to be dragged away in chains, flayed alive and sacrificed to the Dead Serpent God that He may live again.

I think that covers it. It's a Grown-up Moviegoer's Bill of Rights! Let's amend as necessary and promulgate. I will add, not for the first time, that this pretty much describes the thoroughly enjoyable moviegoing experience at the Alamo Drafthouse chain (of Austin and other Texas cities), and at least some of Mark Cuban's Landmark theaters. Of course there are other places, and I welcome your nominations of fully or partially GMBR-compliant institutions. But why the hell can't it be universal? If exhibitors seriously want to save their so-called business model, they can start here.

Next page: A creepy puzzle picture steeped in TV culture